


Point

by Merfilly



Category: DCU (Comics)
Genre: Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-06-09
Updated: 2008-06-09
Packaged: 2018-01-02 19:15:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1060562
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Merfilly/pseuds/Merfilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A moment exchanged between father and son.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Point

Joe looked out over the surf from the balcony of the hotel room, none too easy with the night air. They all knew something was coming, that the events building had reached a final conflict that could not be avoided.

He'd come to get away from the kids, his sister's team, the place he did not belong.

He needed to clear his mind, clear his soul, so that he would be able to enter the battle and fight for what he believed with all his heart.

"You're not safe in the arms of your family," came a voice he had found himself praying never to hear again. Turning slowly, he saw Deathstroke there //not my father, no father of mine// in full kit. Joe knew he was vulnerable, wearing only a pair of jeans and a flannel shirt in the cool breeze of the night air. That lens was over the eye, hiding the one portal of escape Joe might have taken.

The idea of retreat was ludicrous, not when the only thing Joe could see as _justice_ was to find some way to make Deathstroke pay for all he'd done.

"Not here to fight you, son."

[Don't. You lost that right.] The angry signs went with Joe's aggressive posture, making it clear that the younger Wilson was fully prepared to fight no matter what disadvantage he had.

"Fine." Deathstroke reached up, pulled the mask off, and looked his son in the eye.

Joe nearly leaped, but he was wary of a trap now. [Why come?]

The elder man sat down casually on the couch. "We both know this is all going to end tomorrow, one way or another."

[And?]

"I wanted one thing clear, Joseph." That one eye locked on his son. "I chose my path before I ever believed that you had really been within me. It was business, beginning to end."

Joe might not have been able to talk, but he could growl and make other noises of protest. He did so now, a vicious, mutilated sound as he glared daggers through this man. [You bombed an American city...no money, no code can excuse that. It was petty revenge, for Nightwing getting my sister free of your madness!]

Slade shrugged. "Business, Joe. It would have happened, no matter what. And revenge is a business I've savored more than a few times in my life."

Joe's jaw set harder. [Get out.]

"Not until I make you see my one point."

[I've seen your point fairly close and personal, and it turned out to be ineffective, just like your efforts to destroy my team have been.]

Slade's blue eye showed the slam of that blow, the memory of sliding his sword through his son's dying body. Otherwise, he held tight to his control, and looked firmly into the blazing green eyes of his sole remaining son, the one who never should have been a fighter.

"I was not ineffective, Joseph. I achieved all I wanted with my pursuit of Raven, with my recruitment of the disaffected youths." Slade's voice dropped low. "I gave you a family that would not turn on you, I gave you and Rose the right to a name and future free of my reputation by turning them firmly against me on your behalf."

Joe flinched, as the words came back //"I am Deathstroke. And I never lose."// It fit...it fit all the loose ends that had puzzled them all. Slade had not meant to win the fight at all.

"I loved you, always, my son, and have made it my point to honor Lili Worth's wishes that I have nothing to do with Rose, by insuring she never walk my path again. But I was not going to leave the pair of you at risk."

Joe looked down at his hands, trying to find the right words to say.

When he looked up, though, his father was gone, and the words would be left unsaid.


End file.
